


Catch Me When I Fall

by BasementVampire



Series: Black Ink: Halloween and Horror [4]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Accidents, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Flirting, Gore, Horror, Injury, M/M, Major Character Injury, Waiters & Waitresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 11:12:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8246743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BasementVampire/pseuds/BasementVampire
Summary: Restaurants aren't always the safest working environment, and Frank and Gerard learn that firsthand.





	

Gerard plucked a French fry off one of the plates on his tray and popped it in his mouth on his way out of the kitchen.

“Real professional, Gee.”

He spun around, startled, with his fingers frozen at his lips.  Frank was trailing behind him, a smirk on his face.

Gerard laughed.  “What?” he said innocently.

Frank rolled his eyes, pinching Gerard’s ass as he brushed past him and making Gerard squeak.

“Yeah, talk about professional,” Gerard chided.

There was an exasperated groan from behind them, and Gerard glanced over his shoulder to see Bob making a face, spatula in one hand and the other on his hip.

“Would you two save it?  Some of us are trying to work here,” he griped.

“Aw, you don’t mean that,” Frank teased as he strutted out of the kitchen.

“Yes, I do!” Bob called after him.

Gerard chuckled to himself as he followed Frank out the door.

“Not very busy today, is it?” he commented, glancing around the restaurant.

Frank shrugged.  “It’s that fuckin’ Olive Garden, man.  Stealing all our business.”

“No one can resist those breadsticks,” Gerard joked as he veered off down one of the rows of tables.

 

~

 

Gerard stepped out of the kitchen, drinks for table seven in hand.  When he set them down, the couple's young daughter spilled hers almost immediately.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!" her mother exclaimed, fumbling for a napkin to sop up the juice, which was trickling off the edge of the table and pooling on the floor.

Gerard felt like face-palming; they'd asked for a cup with a lid.  "No, no, it's okay," he said hurriedly.  "Let me get something to clean this up, I'll be right back."

He walked briskly back to the kitchen to grab a rag.

"Another spill?" Bob said when Gerard brushed past him, snagging a towel off the counter.

He sighed, pushing his hair out of his face.  "Yup."

Bob laughed.  "Man, you have the worst luck.  It's like you always get stuck with the messy customers."

"Yeah, well, it's my fault really—forgot to give this girl a kids' cup."

Bob was saying something else, but Gerard didn't hear as he swung the door open and headed back into the front of the restaurant.  He was halfway to table seven when he saw Frank walking past it, holding a tray piled with dirty dishes.  It took a split-second from when Gerard realized with a stab of panic that Frank was headed right for the spilled juice for Frank to slip, eyes going wide as he fell forward with a gasp.  There was a loud crash, and Gerard's breath caught as he watched Frank go down, face-first into the tray of dishes.  That side of the restaurant went almost completely silent, dozens of pairs of eyes turning to the spot in interest or annoyance.  A groan came from where Frank's small body was sprawled on the floor, then a whimper.  Gerard's stomach flipped.

"Oh, God..." Frank moaned, high and broken.  The restaurant patrons stared with bated breath, a few murmuring nervously to one another.

Gerard dropped the towel, running to Frank and kneeling beside him.  He felt like he was going to be sick; the glasses and ceramic dishes were smashed around and under Frank, and glistening, dripping blood was splattered all over.

Frank still wasn't moving, and the only sound that came from him was his stuttering breaths and desperate, pained noises.  Gerard's hands were shaking violently when he pulled Frank to the side, rolling him onto his back.

Gerard had never felt like he was going to faint and vomit and cry all at the same time.

Frank's face, neck, and chest were covered in gashes and glass shards half-imbedded in his skin, and red patches bloomed across the top of his white shirt.  Deep cuts all over him were gushing blood, and his wide, scared eyes peered up from amidst the torn-up mess of his face.  His lips trembled as he choked over each breath, the lower one split wide open.

Gerard's head was spinning, and a horrible, sick feeling twisted at his gut.  This wasn't real, it couldn't be—this kind of terrible, freak thing didn't just _happen_.  And not to his Frank.

"Oh fuck, Frankie," Gerard breathed, looking him up and down and trying to figure out what the fuck to _do_.

"Mommy, is he okay?" the little girl from table seven asked in a whisper.

Gerard didn't listen to the woman's response.  He looked around the restaurant frantically, screaming, "Someone call an ambulance!"

A moment later, Brendon and Ryan—two other waiters—were at Gerard's side, carrying rags and a first aid kit.

"Oh, Jesus," Brendon muttered.

Gerard's hands clutched at his hair and he was nearly hyperventilating.  Frank looked up at him bleary-eyed, body shuddering.  Gerard's chest tightened when Frank started to cry.

"Please," Frank choked out.  "G-Gee...it hurts."

Gerard brushed Frank's hair away from his face.  "It's gonna be okay, Frankie.  You're gonna be okay.  Don't worry."

He continued to stroke Frank's hair, murmuring soothing words, as Brendon and Ryan tried to clean up the wounds as much as they could.  Frank shivered, fingers limp when Gerard took his hand, and in a few minutes, his eyes fluttered shut.

"Oh, Jesus, Frankie," Gerard sobbed dryly.  There was no response.

All of a sudden, Gerard was intensely aware of a siren blaring outside.  There were EMTs rushing into the now mostly-empty restaurant, one pushing a stretcher, and somebody was talking to him but his ears felt stuffed with cotton.  A hand grasped his arm, pulling him up, and Gerard was vaguely aware that it was Ryan who caught him when he stumbled back.  Ryan helped him to the back of the restaurant, and Gerard sank down onto a chair, head in his hands.

The manager walked up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.  "You oughta take the rest of the day off, Gerard," he said.

Gerard sniffed.  "Frank was my ride home," was all he could think to say.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed!  
> (fun fact: based on a true story, and subsequently the reason i am never working as a waiter!!!)  
> (Also, I felt it necessary to note that Frank is not dead stop freaking out guys)


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